Mrs. Carv. Good Bloomsbury, let that pass for the present—come a little nearer to me, my good girl.
Honor. Yes, ma’am.
Bloom. Take care of that china pyramint with your cloak—walk on to Mrs. Carver—no need to be afraid—I’ll stand your friend.
Mrs. Carv. I should have thought, Honor McBride, you were in too comfortable a way at home, to think of going into service.
Honor. (sighs) No better father, nor brother, nor (than) I have, ma’am, I thank your ladyship; but some things come across.
Mrs. Carv. (aside) Oh! it is a blushing case, I see: I must talk to her alone, by-and-by. (Aloud) I don’t mean, my good girl, to pry into your family affairs.
Honor. Oh! ma’am, you’re too good. (Aside) The kind-hearted Lady, how I love her already! (She wipes the tears from her eyes.)
Bloom. Take care of the bow-pot at your elbow, child; for if you break the necks of them moss roses—
Honor. I ax their pardon.
Mrs. Carv. Better take the flower-pot out of her way, Bloomsbury.